


Tubbo, Please.

by orphan_account



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dead TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Depressed TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo-centric, traitor ranboo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:48:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28541298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ranboo's subchat (on his discord) threw this idea out into chat and I couldn't help but write it."not me thinking that were gonna get a "phil kill me" moment but its tubbo and tommy"Hope this makes you cry :)
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Ranboo & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 12
Kudos: 231





	Tubbo, Please.

It wasn't a rainy day, but Tubbo thought it should have been. The birds chirped and the sun peeked over the horizon, washing the L’mantree in an orange light. He hadn’t expected his festival to go so poorly, but he likely should have. All festivals held in L’manburg end in bloodshed, it seems. 

Tubbo remembered it like it was yesterday (it was a month ago). He had been buzzing with energy at the prospect of killing Dream. But when it was finally time to shoot the fatal shot, Dream pulled out a stack of papers.

In the end, they turned out to be photocopies of Ranboo’s memory book. The betrayal hit Tubbo like a truck, but he couldn’t cry. He couldn’t because he was the president. And even as Ranboo cried and begged on his knees for Tubbo to understand, his duty as president took priority. (Because if Tubbo decided to continue housing Ranboo now, then what would that mean for his decision with Tommy? Tubbo wasn’t sure if he could bear to be wrong). 

And as Tubbo looked on in despair and silence, his vice president struck Ranboo with his diamond axe. A necessary death, he had called it. Any allies of Technoblade were to be punished. 

And at first that had been it. Dream hadn’t died (although he had, once again, threatened L’manburg), and everything was back to normal (it wasn’t). 

But then he received a message from Dream, with coordinates. 

“Heard you were looking for a time to kill Technoblade.”

Tubbo’s heart leaped into his throat.

“Ranboo happened to write that he and Techno were planning a day out, with a strict ‘no violence’ policy.”

Tubbo’s head pounded. 

“Be there in a day and you’ll have a good shot at killing him.”

Tubbo’s fist was clenching so hard that he could hear the sound of blood splattering on stone. He looked down, only to see blood slowing dripping into the engraving on the stone. The light was almost blinding now, and Tubbo was forced to look away, towards the old bench where he and Tommy used to relax. Mellohi would play in the background as Tommy made some kind of wild, random joke that shouldn’t have been funny (Tubbo always laughed, though). 

For a moment Tubbo thought he could hear the song, and he flinched. Mellohi was no longer nice to hear, because it could only remind him of the pain and horror he felt watching Tommy sit alone in the snow at the coordinated Dream had sent him. Technoblade was nowhere to be found, only Tommy wailing in the snow. 

He took a tentative step forward, only for Tommy to whip his head towards him. Tubbo looked into his eyes and immediately regretted it. 

Tommy looked like hell. His clothes were clawed to pieces (he must have been cold), hair messy and eyes red around the rims. Tubbo could barely remember the last time he had seen Tommy smiling, but he couldn’t put a finger on a time he had seen Tommy cry (but he had heard Tommy cry through a door. Wilbur had just died).

Tubbo opened his mouth to greet his best friend, but Tommy beat him to it. 

“Here to finish the job?”

Tubbo couldn’t help but tilt his head in confusion, horror slowly making its way onto his face. 

And now Tubbo wanted to throw up. But he couldn’t, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to clean up the resulting mess without breaking down. He placed down the flowers he had brought for the grave (they were Amaryllis. Tommy had never been one for hidden messages, so Tubbo had just got some pretty red and white ones). 

Red and white was also the color scheme of Tommy’s final resting place. 

Tubbo wasn’t sure he was ever going to forget the pure gut wrenching feeling he got when Tommy shook his shoulders in the snow. He wasn’t going to forget the feeling of Tommy’s cold, cold, cold handing on his face, begging for some kind of explanation. 

“Why, why, why did you kill Ranboo. I don’t understand, I don't understand.” Tommy was wailing now, and even though Tubbo was the president, he couldn’t find any confidence in his decisions anymore. Tubbo remembers the sting of spit and tears hitting his cheeks as Tommy begged and begged and begged to understand why Tubbo hated him so much. 

And for a moment, Tubbo couldn’t understand why Tommy didn’t hate him. 

Tubbo beathed in. “I didn’t have a choice.” Tubbos voice cracked under the stress and emotion. And he knew that it was the worst thing to say in that moment, he knew. But he was only 17 years old, and even though he knew he shouldnt, Tubbo couldn’t help but try and defend himself. 

And Tubbo couldn’t understand how Tommy didn’t hate him, because after everything was over Tubbo could not help but hate himself. Every time Tubbo woke up he could only feel like everything was crumbling around him. And it was, but in the end it was all Tubbo’s fault. His fault becoming president, his fault for exiling Tommy, his fault for supporting the buterer army, his fault for organizing that fucking festival. 

And as much as it hurt to admit, Tubbo was at fault for killing his best friend too. 

He could vividly remember his axe positioning itself behind Tommy’s neck as he begged and begged and begged Tubbo to end this hell (the hell created by Tubbo). Tubbo couldn’t breath anymore. He looked into Tommy’s eyes and could only see pain. Pain and suffering, and Tubbo could not handle seeing his smiling, cheerful, endlessly happy best friend being tortured so much. 

And in that moment, Tubbo believed that he was doing the right thing. Tommy would no longer threaten L’manburg’s citizens and peace. (Tommy might find his own peace now, too.)

But as soon as Tubbo’s axe made contact with Tommy’s throat, that moment was over. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck was Tubbo doing. He screamed as Tommy choked on the blood that was rushing out of his mouth, staining the pearly white snow. 

And Tubbo had messed up the swing, because of course he had, and now Tubbo could not hold the axe. His hands were shaking and he could not touch the wooden handle anymore, only hearing the soft thump of the axe landing in the snow. But he didn’t see it fall, because he was too busy watching Tommy’s body fall forwards and hit the snow. The sound his body made was much more deafening than the sound of the axe, but Tubbo was sure that nothing could overpower the sounds of Tommy giggling in the snow. 

“To be honest, big man…” Tommy choked out. Tubbo was scrambling to find any sort of bandages, any potions, anything that could fix this. 

“I didn’t think you would have the guts to do it.”

Tubbo wanted to fall apart. 

And in the end, he did. He let Quackity take over. 

Tubbo didn’t care that he no longer respected Quackity, or that he was scared that L’manburg would be thrust into another war. 

Because Tubbo didn’t have anyone he was willing to fight for, anymore. 

Tubbo turned away from the bench and walked towards the prime path, towards home. Birds chirped happily, and the sun was almost at the middle of the sky now. 

Tommy’s house was to his right, but Tubbo didn’t want to look at it. But his efforts to avoid the memories of Tommy were futile as he walked along the path, seeing the little bits and pieces that Tommy had left behind here. The big tower, the small pieces of dirt and cobblestone, and even pieces of different colored wood. 

Tubbo didn’t have the same presence that Tommy did. Nobody was willing to follow Tubbo like they wanted to follow Tommy. 

Tommy would have made a much better president. 

He couldn’t help but laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> AHAHAHAHA anyways I hope you liked it. I'd like to make more Dream SMP oneshots, if that's something anyone is interested in. Anyways, leave a comment if u want, they make me feel happy :D


End file.
